


T’is The Season To Curse More Than Strictly Necessary

by Ace_Valentin_21



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Clint Barton is a Piece Of Shit, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe, Steve is a Brooklyn Boy and y’all should never forget it, Swearing, Tony Stark is a tease, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, fruity with notes of possessive Steve, in excess, liberal cursing, there was not supposed to be this much I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-21 15:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18705301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ace_Valentin_21/pseuds/Ace_Valentin_21
Summary: “It’s not my rules, Cap, it’s mistletoe law. You stood under it, you pay the price.”(Alternatively: Tony is a dumb bitch with the laws of Christmas on his side, and Steve has a potty mouth.)





	T’is The Season To Curse More Than Strictly Necessary

“You need to pay the kiss toll.”

“I need to - what?”

“You heard me, Capsicle,” Tony smirks up at him, leaning against the door frame.

“Piss off, Stark.”

Tony doesn’t even have time to mock him for cursing before Steve is halfheartedly trying to shoulder past into the communal kitchen, but approximately five-foot-nine-inches of righteous smugness refuses to budge. Tony pokes him in the chest, leaning forward into his space.

“Thought you were supposed to be all noble and selfless and debt-honouring, Cap. You really gonna break a historic tradition?” Tony cocks his head, giving the mistletoe he was holding above them a little shake.

Steve rolls his eyes with a scoff of disbelief, feigning indifference, but his ears flush red all the same.

If the asshole could just put his arm down, get out of the way, and maybe stop looking so _goddamn enticing_ , his life would be so much easier, and he could keep living in denial of his feelings. But it was Christmas, and the residents of the compound took Christmas tradition very, very seriously. Normally, he’s as much of a stickler for eggnog and fairy lights as the rest of them, but he has a certain moral ambiguity surrounding who he would and would not be willing to make out with under completely platonic, no-strings-attached, absolutely-no-attraction-whatsoever circumstances.

Basically, he wanted to kiss Tony Stark so badly that he froze up the only time he got the chance.

“Are you guys having a moment again? ‘Cause I need my breakfast and it’s too early for your shit.”

Steve turns around, mildly annoyed but significantly more relieved, to see Clint shooting the pair a pointed look. Natasha stands behind him, picking at her nails with a large knife (he has no idea where she kept getting them; he suspects she’s hiding them in the couch cushions but hasn’t had the time to test the theory).

“It wouldn’t be a ‘moment’ if our good captain here would just man up and follow the rules of Christmas,” Tony replies drily, “and honestly, pigeon-vision, you should watch your mouth when there are senior citizens present! Have you no shame?”

Clint snickers as he pushed past Steve’s broad-shouldered frame, clapping him on the back as he moves past, then leans in and -

Kisses Tony. Full on the mouth. Just like it was fucking _easy_.

“Your mama never teach you to save tongue for the third date?” Tony calls out after him, grinning at the bird Clint flips in response. He turns around just in time to give Nat a quick peck on the lips, then steps even closer to an increasingly dumbfounded Steve

“So? Ready to pay the toll yet?” Tony blinks up at him invitingly.

Steve has fucking had it.

He’s just so blasé about it; shrugging it off like it’s nothing, when it’s _not_ nothing, it _shouldn’t be_ nothing, because if it’s nothing with them then it’ll just be nothing with Steve, too, and that doesn’t sit right.

He wants Tony to himself, as much as he tries to ignore it, and he’s pissed with Tony, and with his teammates, and with himself for blaming it on them when it’s his shit to sort out, but he’s only human, and humans are fucking useless when it comes to matters of the heart

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass,” he says icily, stepping back and turning on his heel. He had some serious brooding to do; maybe a manly punching-bag session would do the trick. Maybe he’d break the bag again, as reinforced as it was, and he’d have to take it down to Tony in his workshop, and he’s bend over it with his grease-stained tank top and his muscular arms and-

“Hey, Capsicle, who said you could go?”

He stops in his tracks, steels his expression, then turns back around.

“I did, Tony. You’re not gonna be giving me orders on where I get to eat my goddamn breakfast any time soon.” Too much, too much. They have a rule about pulling rank before lunchtime.

Tony seems unfazed by his domineering bullshit; he just smirks a little and raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not my rules, Cap, it’s mistletoe law. You stood under it, you pay the price.” He takes a lazy step forward, tilting his head as his loose sleep shirt slipped farther down his shoulder, exposing tanned skin and lean muscle, and that was fucking it and Steve was crossing the room in three broad strides and grabbing his infuriating fucking face and -

And he’s kissing Tony. Hard. And the others only did it for a second ( _fuck the others_ ) and this probably isn’t part of the rules ( _fuck the rules_ ) and this could screw over their whole Christmas ( _fuck Christmas_ ) and what about the team ( _what about Tony_ ) and -

“Steve.”

Tony’s pulling back a fraction, their chests still presses together, Steve’s hand still gripping his jaw, his arms around Steve’s waist, and he’s taking a breath, looking up through his lashes.

“If you still feel like getting into the kitchen, you’ve definitely paid the toll,” he says finally, tentatively. Steve’s grip tightens on Tony’s face as he runs a thumb along his cheekbone, and Tony leans into the touch.

Steve feels his stomach churning, and he wonders if he read the situation wrong, and he’s well aware of Clint and Natasha watching from the kitchen, but fuck all that.

“You know, there’s other things I’d rather be doing,” he murmurs in Tony’s ear as he slips the mistletoe from his fingers and holds it over their heads. Tony huffs a little laugh, and Steve grins down at him.

“As much of an asshole as you are, Stark, you were right about one thing.”

“And that is?”

“You stand under it, you pay the price.”


End file.
